


I Belong to You

by softslumbers



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Haikyuu Month, Haikyuu Week, IwaOi Day, IwaOi Week, M/M, Major Illness, Minor Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, POV Oikawa Tooru, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Pining Oikawa Tooru, Sad Oikawa Tooru, The Song of Achilles References, iwaoi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softslumbers/pseuds/softslumbers
Summary: “Oikawa?” His voice sounds drained and it makes Oikawa slightly uncomfortable. He hums in response and turns his head to face him, seeing a deeper outline of black where he was laying. Something shifts in him, like a huge weight releases off of his back as he watches Iwaizumi stare back at him. He sees the dip in his hair that he has sometimes in the mornings, and he can tell just by looking at his silhouette the expression on his face. He thinks to himself that he could perfectly paint a picture of him if he wanted, that maybe he knew Iwaiumi’s face better than even his own. He would know it in every beginning and every end.-Some people say that two souls are so deeply connected that when one dies, the other will never be fulfilled until they are together again. Oikawa and Iwaizumi grow up and learn together that each beginning has an end, and every ending is an opening for a new beginning.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 14
Kudos: 173





	I Belong to You

**Author's Note:**

> Incase it isn't obvious yet, this story does have major character death so please keep that in mind! I fell in love with this concept and I just needed to write it out if it was the last thing I ever do, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, but please no hate! I love you all very much, and I'm truly sorry in advance for this one. I just finished the song of achilles, my now all time favorite book, and so there are some references and slight plot points that I added that connect to this book! so that’s a fun little bit of spice for this story.
> 
> ALSO- MY Z KEY DOESN'T WORK VERY WELL! at some points it may say "iwaumi" instead of "iwaizumi" and I am so so sorry about this... I will be going through and doing editing as much as I can.

Oikawa had always had a busy mind, something that his mother used to tease him for when he was a young boy. She would mention how if his mind wandered for too long, he might drift off into the busyness of the world he had created, the one of dragons and fairies and a sun that never quite sets, and never return. Some nights he would cry about this, catching himself thinking too much and suddenly being afraid that he may get stuck there. Other nights, nights when he would come home late on a school night and stare blankly at his reflection in the mirror of the small bathroom attached to his bedroom, he hoped maybe she was right. His reflection had always seemed challenging, like it knew the pain it caused Oikawa to look at. His hair peaked up in an array of random directions with no sequence, and he thought to himself it seemed to project what his mind felt like. Sticking in an array of directions with no sequence. He didn’t know why he felt so different from anyone else, why he had been born into a family of oddballs. He can’t step foot in a room without the gaze of everyone being put to him, even if it’s only for the briefest second. As he grows up, he learns to ignore this, he learns to stop twisting the ends of his hair as anxiety takes its toll over his confidence. But not yet. Not for a very, very long time.

As a child life seemed like it happened much too fast and happily. It was second grade, as he’s looking back, that he vividly remembers his first memory. He’s sitting on the carpet alongside everyone else with his legs pulled up to his chest. The teacher is holding up a small whiteboard with something on it that Oikawa can’t remember. There were pictures lining the walls, pieces of art and student projects up for display, and he feels a tug at his chest, but he isn’t really sure why. The handprints of paint scattered over a large paper in the center of the room, a gift from a class a few years back. He remembers that his teacher was older, not very old but old enough that she qualified as old, when she smiled her eyes would crease, like someone on an advertisement for an allergy pill or the nice old woman down the street from Oikawa’s house. He hears the door open and he turns, locking eyes with him as he shuffles his way to his cubby and hangs his backpack under the tag. Oikawa reads his name. He remembers his name, of course. He even dares to say he remembers the color it was written in, the way he had sloppily scribbled his name across the sheet of paper in deep blue. He remembers the backpack hanging, but realizes in the back of my mind that he can’t put his finger on if it was orange or red. Something seems to slip from the back of his mind slowly as he realizes another thing he once knew like it was the back of his hand that had also vanished. 

He watches as the boy turns around, his black hair swooping as he turns and their eyes lock, just like they would every time they were in the same room. It was a beginning to a pattern, that even if they didn’t know the other was there quite yet their eyes seemed to levitate to each other. It’s like the universe had them attached with a string, a constant tug toward the other. This wasn’t something neither of them could have begun to understand until they were much older.

The boy walked with his shoulders and chest pushed out, like he had something to prove or like there was something tickling against his back. Oikawa giggled to himself as he thought this, and the boy sat next to him. This is also something that would then happen every day in school, but today was the first time. He didn’t acknowledge Oikawa, just stared at the teacher, He was just sitting next to another person, just like he did every day.

“Your tank top has a stain on it.” Oikawa says, pressing his pointer finger daringly against the boy’s chest. Oikawa can feel his heart fluttering below his finger, and his warm skin rises and falls with a breath before he can look down, his eyebrows creasing as he follows where Oikawa was looking. As soon as his chin is at the desirable dip Oikawa pulls his finger up quickly, feeling it pat gently against the bottom of the boy’s chin. He felt a small scab where he had fallen and scraped himself against the pad of his finger and brought his eyes to the boys with a look of pride and accomplishment, something that he would look at Iwaizumi like for as long as Iwaizumi can remember. The two of them locked eyes, there was a sleepy look in Iwaiumi’s eyes that Oikawa didn’t fully process as he met Oikawa’s, the two of them erupted into a small fit of giggles.

“That’s a thing babies do.” The girl next to them whispered, her nose scrunched up as well as her head was tilted. Oikawa tilted his head up as well, mocking her look and turning to the teacher with the same look. Iwaizumi’s giggles hadn’t died down and Oikawa felt a strong pride as he watched him laugh from the corner of his eyes. Iwaizumi laughing as a child had always brought Oikawa a sense of pride, since it wasn’t accomplished by nearly anyone else. as they both hear the girl loudly complain as the teacher dismisses them for free time.

And there wasn’t much else of an explanation as to how the two of them got to know one another. Sometimes they would do what Iwaizumi wanted to do and chase bugs from stone to stone at the edge of the playground where it switched into a flower field, and sometimes they would sit at the top of the playground and Iwaizumi would listen to Oikawa’s stories. Oikawa would blabber about his new idea, of a superpower or fantasy, and Iwaizumi would add in small notes and bits of constructive criticism. Even if their class breaks were only a few minutes, Oikawa was sure they had built movies worth of plots together. 

Iwaizumi led Oikawa hand in hand through the playground, a small girl blabbing about her crush and dreams of marrying one day. Oikawa remembers Iwaizumi turning to him and making a disastrous face at the conversation and Oikawa burst into a fit of warm laughter, catching glares from the group of girls. Iwaizumi’s eyes sparkled with something when Oikawa looked back at him, grinning in pride at making Oikawa laugh so hard. Oikawa remembers this twinkle, he has played it over and over in his mind for many years.

“At least i’m going to get married! No one wants to marry someone who likes gross bugs, Iwaizumi!” She challenged, and Iwaizumi for the first time that Oikawa can remember showed his defensive side. As a child he didn’t see it that much, but as they aged it became all that Oikawa knew of Iwa. Iwaizumi sniffed, tilting up his head in challenge. Before he can say anything, Oikawa squeezes his hand.

“He will too get married!” Oikawa points. “I don’t mind that he likes bugs, so that means there must be someone else too.” He states this matter of factly, and of course in a way he had been right, but the girls took this as an opportunity to hit a soft spot.

“Ew! Oikawa wants to marry Iwaizumi!” They chirped it like chickadees, hearing the sentence travel slowly through the playground. Oikawa looked devastated as the news spread through the children, but Iwaiumi didn't release his hand. It gripped his own so tight he could feel the bones of his knuckles twist against one another, and his heart leaps a little bit.

“So what if we get married? What’s it to you?” Iwaizumi yelled, and tugged Oikawa away from the scene. He thinks after that he then threatens to fight her which results in her crying to the teacher and a long talk between the three of them, but he isn’t quite sure. It wasn’t until after all of it that Iwaiumi finally released his hand that he felt himself regain his composure and conscience, looking up suddenly and meeting eyes with his best friend as he smiled down at him Oikawa he was the greatest thing in the whole universe.

He envied Iwaizumi for many things. He was confident, the teachers really loved him, he was talkative, he was kind. People always would tell Iwaizumi that he would be a player when he got older. Neither of them understood this. Iwaizumi would giggle in confusion, so would Oikawa. It still will make Oikawa laugh, if he ever thinks about it. He catches himself doing that quite a lot. He found something about Iwaizumi, other than the obvious, that tended to leave him at a loss for words as he started to grow up even a little bit more. Throughout the next two years something starts to build slowly inside of Oikawa’s head, and he feels it suddenly halfway through grade four as he watches Iwaizumi peel an orange as he laid on his back. His lips were parted, and he breathed silently to himself as he pulled the skin of the orange free, tossing it somewhere to his feet. The sunlight burned down on the two of them, but it seemed to always shine off of Iwaizumi in a different way, maybe because his skin had always been a little bit darker. Oikawa looks closely at the bridge of Iwaizumi’s nose and how it twisted its way up toward the sky and he realizes how well he knows Iwaizumi’s face. He smiles to himself, but he doesn’t really know why he does.  
Oikawa couldn’t name exactly when the change happened, but at some point, around when he got his first or second girlfriend, the first time that Iwaizumi began to change. Oikawa watched as Iwaizumi began to tower over him in height, and suddenly he didn’t find the stories as interesting as he had used to, as well as Oikawa didn’t necessarily want to go chasing bugs through the park anymore. Something had begun to shift in Iwaizumi, and he started to cold shoulder Oikawa. The glances shared between the two of them shortened from long aweing stares to short and flustered glances. Oikawa feared one day Iwaizumi would never look his way ever again, he wasn’t sure why the thought of this felt like the world itself crumbling into a fine powder. 

It was late and they were now in middle school, so they had started to stay up later each time they had sleepovers. Iwaizumi’s mom always made a bed for Oikawa on the floor, and Oikawa used it but not until he really had to move. He made sure to take his time, waiting until the soft breathing from Iwaizumi was nearly lulling him to sleep, or his eyelids could barely hold themselves open. It was these moments, when Iwaizumi was dreadfully tired, that Oikawa could recognize the youth that still remained in Iwaizumi. He savored it like it was the last drop of water in a drought each time he experienced it, the big lazy grin on his face or the laugh under his breath that Oikawa doesn’t get to hear nearly as often. He watches the moonlight spillover Iwaizumi’s hair as it sticks around his round face, still holding a somewhat childlike form. It shone across his cheekbones and down toward his lips, where Oikawa’s eyes lingered for a moment too long to be normal. He feels himself swallow and wonders if Iwaizumi heard it too.

“Do your parents argue a lot, Oikawa?” Oikawa’s eyes didn’t leave where they had already been planted, right at Iwaizumi’s face, at how his eyebrows pulled together in thought. Oikawa smiled and paused in thought, something that Iwaizumi had always loved about him. No matter how irritating or obnoxious, he always listens to everything that Iwaizumi has to say with ease, as if he never gets tired of talking to him. Because, simply, he did not.

“I think they argue a normal amount.” Oikawa said slowly, watching Iwaizumi’s body relax as he released a breath into the space between them.

“Do you ever think about girls?” Oikawa laughs a little.

“Those are two very different questions, what are you having a crisis or something?” He feels Iwaizumi pull at the blankets, so they come up to his chin.

“What’s it to you?” Oikawa watched as he forced his eyes shut and sighed to himself. Iwaizumi was not a man of many words, sometimes no words at all, and learning to express his emotions has been a rollercoaster as they grew up. Oikawa has learned from his mother that he’s too nice to Iwaizumi and shouldn’t let himself get pushed around so much, but he sees a piece of himself in Iwaizumi that he can’t ignore or leave behind. They are two very different but similar in more ways than someone could imagine, especially in vulnerability like Iwaizumi was expressing now. Oikawa feels something rush through him as he watches Iwaizumi lick his lips, something he had watched over and over again but for some reason it felt like the first time. He wondered what Iwaizumi would do if he reached out to touch his lip, what it would feel like under the pad of his thumb.

“Sometimes.” Oikawa answers honestly. Iwaizumi stays quiet for a really long time and the silence in the room billows around them like a blanket. 

“Do you think about them, like, naked?’ Iwaizumi whispers it, as if he could break the room if he spoke too loud. Oikawa realizes he hasn’t breathed in a while, and exhales shakily.

“Yeah.” Oikawa can practically feel Iwaizumi’s nerves surging, and he can tell there’s more before he can open his mouth, but nothing comes. Oikawa decides after Iwaizumi did not speak for quite some time that he should be getting up and moving to his bed on the floor by now, but something stops him and pushes dangerous ideas into his mind, things he would never be brave enough to admit to thinking. Not when he hadn’t ever thought things of that sort before. Shame washes over him as he feels he has violated his friend in a way, but when he gets up to leave out of frustration in himself a small hand wraps its way around his wrist and holds him to his side. Oikawa feels him exhale, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell Oikawa to stay. Iwaiumi releases suddenly as if a realization had dawned upon him and his eyes open, looking much lighter in the light of the night than they do normally. They glossed frantically over Oikawa’s face for uncomfort, or at least that’s what Oikawa assumed he was searching for, so Oikawa smiled reassuringly and pulled himself off of the bed. The strip of skin on his wrist seemed to tingle as he replayed the moment over and over in his mind for the next hour as he waited for Iwaizumi’s breath to slow. When he was sure the boy was asleep, he made his way to the bathroom and pressed his head against the cool tile on the floor, hoping maybe it would answer a question that seemed to throb through his mind.

It was many sleepovers later that they besides emotionally started to physically change as well. As children Iwaizumi was much taller than Oikawa, who would timidly trail behind him as Iwaizumi led him through life. But now, entering high school Oikawa had seemed to surpass Iwaizumi in height and with his height also came the attention from girls at school, attention from everyone for that matter. He can’t lie and say he didn’t like it because honestly he loved the attention, after living in the shadow of Iwaizumi (not that he minded) it was nice to be the one with appraise, but it had seemed that as what he had over Oikawa got smaller and smaller, so did his affection and their friendship. Oikawa watched his friend slowly slip from his fingers as time went on and acted as if it didn’t bother him as much as it really does. They still played volleyball together and sometimes would sit by each at team dinners, but every now and then it will hit him that someone who used to be so kind and protective of him can’t even look at him without groaning. He stopped telling stories around this point, as well. With his new grown attitude anything Oikawa did was a bother, and so he let the creative ideas and worlds he and Iwaizumi had created to slowly slip away to never be spoken of again. Iwaizumi never asked him why, and Oikawa pretended not to remember any of them if it was ever brought into a conversation.

Every now and then, amidst the complaining and banter there would be a small sliver of something in Iwaizumi that he would let glow for only a couple moments. Oikawa is sure it’s an accident, because every time it comes it has gone as fast as it had appeared, and he never mentions it. Mattsun and Makki will sometimes make comments about how Iwaizumi always looks like he has a stick up his ass, and he can’t help but be proud that he’s the only one who’s able to catch those short seconds. And as if knowingly, each time there is a panicked eye contact that is shared between the two of them, and Oikawa would smile, and it would all go back to how it was moments ago. 

Iwaizumi would sometimes go days without speaking to Oikawa, sometimes there was a reason but sometimes it wasn’t so clear. Practice was one of the only places for a good month that Oikawa would even see Iwaizumi because he had distanced himself so much, and he hates to say that he has a few ideas as to why. 

Oikawa inhaled a blunt and passed it to Mattsun who stood next to him, the two of them tucked away somewhere deep in the forest behind their school. Mattsun leaned his head against the tree, cracking his neck. 

“Do you like Iwaizumi?” Oikawa inhaled and turned quickly.

“What? Iwaizumi Is my... I’ve known him forever. Of course, I do.” Mattsukawa groaned, taking a long inhale of the drug and releasing it above his head.

“You idiot.” He mumbles, and that’s it. The conversation ends, Oikawa’s hands in his pockets as he thinks to himself about the way he feels when he’s near Iwaizumi and if he could qualify that as a romantic feeling. Oikawa’s mind is left scrambled as they finish and approach the school together, Oikawa saying hello to some girls who stopped him on the side of the road. A breeze passes through the air around them as they walk home together, Makki and Mattsun branching off in a different direction, Oikawa nodding a small goodbye to Iwaizumi and turning the corner. That was the most interaction the two of them would have lately.

It was halfway through his second year that Oikawa was startled in the middle of the night to rocks flicking against his parent’s window. He can hear it as well, since the rooms are so close, and pulls a blind away to peer down at the grass below his window. Iwaizumi looked up slightly crooked, horror pulling across his face as he looked at Oikawa, the window he’s been throwing rocks at, and then back at Oikawa. Oikawa pulls the window open, feeling his pores shrink as the air crisps around his face and warm ears.

“That’s my parent’s window, you absolute idiot.” Iwaizumi visibly pulls a face, Oikawa decides not to bring up that Iwaizumi hadn’t been to his house in months. How unnatural it felt to see him in his backyard again. Iwaizumi throws a remaining rock at Oikawa’s head, who giggles and watches it hit against the wood next to him. “You missed!”

“I swear that was your room! Did you move?” Oikawa pulls his hood off of his head, resting his head against the window pane.

“No. That has always been my parents’.” It was quiet for a short while. “What brings you to my humble abode, Iwa-Charming?” Iwaizumi smiles challengingly at the comment, and Oikawa’s heart leaps. When was the last time he’d seen that smile? It’s gone, however, before Oikawa can fully process it.

“I just was…” Iwaizumi trails off, maybe not really knowing why. “I was on a walk, and now I guess i’m here.” Very Iwaizumi-like. 

“Well, do you want to stay over?” Oikawa says, and he feels himself get anxious as he waits for him to respond. No, ikawa thinks. He hasn’t agreed to stay over in a very long time. Oikawa never asked why, not until now. He’s feeling confident today, maybe it’s because he just completed his skincare. “Why did you stop coming over, anyways?” Iwaizumi looks troubled, and Oikawa sees the hollows of his eyes darker than he’d ever seen them before. He wonders when the last time he slept was.

“I guess I just needed time.” Iwaizumi says slowly. He shifts on his feet. “But now I don’t-” Oikawa stares at him as he moves awkwardly, obviously not wanting to say something. 

“You don’t have to say anything, it’s fine. The door is unlocked I think, lock it when you come up. I’ll tell my mom.” Iwaizumi stares for a little while and even in the darkness Oikawa catches a small glimmer, the one he remembers from when they were children so well.

Iwaizumi comes up, and when Oikawa tells his mother she just nods and waves him off. He sets up a mattress on the floor for Iwa and sits on his bed, turning the lamp on and looking over at iwaizumi for the first time. His eyes looked tired, but so did the rest of his body in a way. His skin didn’t hold much color, and it looked like if Oikawa sliced through him he might not even bleed. He holds a gasp down, because that’s definitely not what Iwaizumi needs. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, pulling at the hem of his shirt.

“I know, I look like hell.”

“Yeah, you do.” Iwaiumi plops himself on the bed next to Oikawa, and mumbles something about homework. “Worry about that later, just go to bed.” Oikawa says carefully, and watches as Iwaizumi stays still on his place on the bed. Something warm expanded in the pit of Oikawa’s stomach but he pushed it away as he pulled the blankets over his and Iwaiumi’s bodies. He laid flat on his back staring at where the ceiling would be, but his eyes hadn’t adjusted quite yet. About thirty minutes go by like this, just the two of them breathing together.

“Oikawa?” His voice sounds drained and it makes Oikawa slightly uncomfortable. He hums in response and turns his head to face him, seeing a deeper outline of black where he was laying. Something shifts in him, like a huge weight releases off of his back as he watches Iwaiumi stare back at him. He sees the dip in his hair that he has sometimes in the mornings, and he can tell just by looking at his silhouette the expression on his face. He thinks to himself that he could perfectly paint a picture of him if he wanted, that maybe he knew Iwaiumi’s face better than even his own. He would know it in every beginning and every end. 

He hadn’t realized how much he missed having him here, and how he ever was able to be without him for so long. He’s pretty sure whatever day Iwaizumi dies, Oikawa will die as well. That the second Iwaizumi’s last breath leaves his mouth as they are wrinkled and old, barely able to wipe their own asses at this point that he too would take his own, he didn’t know what his life could be good for if it isn’t Iwaizumi. He’s not afraid, though. He’ll never need to miss him. The two of them had this same exact thought, but didn’t dare tell one another. “Would you tell me a story? Like you used to?” Oikawa’s breath hitches and he suddenly feels targeted for whatever reason, wondering if this all really is just a way for Iwaizumi to mock him. He doesn’t say anything. Iwaizumi seems to know what’s on his mind. “Tell me the one about the ogre again, and the small girl.” Oikawa remembers this one.

“I don’t remember it.” He mutters, feeling his face heat up.

“I know you do,” Iwaizumi says, and he almost seems sad. They sit quietly and Oikawa debates it with himself in his own mind. “I remember. She approaches it, and the whole town laughs at her because they think she’s a foolish girl for wanting to go against such a strong being, but in the end she is the one to calm the ogre and no one else, because she approached it with love for the first time. Everyone else wanted to kill him, but she cared for him. Wanted to know why he was so angry.” It was quiet and Oikawa’s eyes burned from being open for too long, he felt his eyelids drag across his eyes which had somewhat dried out. He can see Iwaizumi better now, his eyes have adjusted more. He watches Iwaizumi grin to himself sleepily. “But you tell it so much better than me, you always have. Please?”

It’s only a few short moments before the story starts to slip out from Oikawa’s memory. Every little motion the girl makes, the town meetings, the sad and happy parts. It flows out like a cup that has finally reached the brim, and Iwaizumi smiles as he hears it for the hundredth time. When Oikawa finishes Iwaizumi asks him quietly to tell it again, and Oikawa does. 

School starts as it does every week again that Monday, and Iwaizumi still hasn't gone home. Makki and Mattsun obviously had noticed the change in Iwaizumi’s behaviour, the way he suddenly is always with Oikawa and almost never home, how his rage fits have started to calm and his sympathy has grown, but no one says anything. Iwaizumi stands next to Oiakwa as he chats with the girls from school who eagerly ask him about his window and finally shows his old self, rolling his eyes. For some reason, Oikawa had missed that, for some reason. Iwaizumi storms away, and Oikawa chases after him with a giggle but it leaves his face as he sees Iwaizumi’s face and how hurt he looked. “Iwa-chan? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing!” He yells, and a couple heads turn briefly to see the commotion. Oikawa flinces, and Iwazumi does it himself as well. “I’m sorry, nothing. It’s nothing.” Oikawa looks in disbelief.

“You’re sorry? Who are you and where is Iwai-chan?” Iwazumi sniffs his nose and marches forward, Oikawa trailing behind in little hops.

“He’s gone, I guess.” Iwaizumi mutters. Oikawa pushes his hands in his pockets and looks to the sky. He remembers for a moment walking to school with Iwaizumi as kids, down this same street. Nothing had changed, really. 

“Well, even if he comes back i’ll still be your friend.” Oikawa says and Iwaizumi goes red, a blush. It was unmissable, it was so obvious maybe even the people around them could tell. Something heats in Oikawa as he looks at his friend. A chance? Did he have a chance? He pulls down in a surge of confidence, pressing his lips lazily to Iwazumi’s cheek. Iwaizumi stood in shock as Oikawa kissed him, seeming too disoriented to make a movement. Oikawa can smell a cold sweat on his skin and it honestly is a little gross, but he can’t take his mind off of how cold Iwazumi’s cheek was. Cold as bone, like death. He pulls off quickly, realizing what he had done a little too late. Iwaizumi turned to look at him, and his eyes were glossed over. 

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa says quickly, pulling at the inside of his pockets. Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything the whole walk home, seeming to be deep in thought. For the next few months they would make their way to Oikawa’s house like it’s clockwork. Oikawa had stopped asking his mother at this point, she assumed he would be coming over. Oikawa wonders what Iwazumi tells his own mom, but doesn’t ever bring it up.

The two of them watch their third movie together, taking turns on who gets to decide what movie to watch. He looks at Iwaizumi without thinking, an intruding thought of what he must look like taking over and when seeing he was already looking at Oikawa the two of them both snap their eyes back at the screen. He selfishly wished the eye contact had lingered a little longer, but he didn't say anything. His hand feels glued to his side, suddenly something is uncomfortable about not holding Iwaizumi on his own even if he’d never done it before. A few warm and sweaty moments go by and Oikawa realizes he had lost track of the movie as soon as they had locked eyes for that brief moment. Even after realizing he hadn’t been paying attention, he can’t bring himself to focus.

A finger brushes against his own, only for a second, and Oikawa’s body sits impossibly still as he feels it linger, the pad of Iwaizumi’s pinky gently resting on his own. He wonders if Iwazumi feels this too, the nervousness that he’s feeling. He’s always been so much more confident than Oikawa, so he really doesn’t have an answer. 

He reaches his pinky out, and as the touch becomes stronger, he feels like he’s stepping into a bathtub full of leeches. His stomach flopped around, and the movie danced across their faces, just background noise. Iwaizumi locks his finger inside of Oikawa’s and for a moment he wonders if that’s it, but then his hand is slowly turning. Oikawa feels his face heat and he bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste it. Their hands lock, and that’s it. That’s it and yet it feels like there are cities on fire inside of his chest. He feels Iwaizumi turn to look at him, but he doesn’t dare to move, too afraid that he’ll scare him off or that he’ll wake up from a dream. Iwaizumi says his name gently and with that he turns just as the movie screen darkens, so there’s not much to look at. Iwaizumi breathes and so does Oikawa, it’s as if the two of them are in sync, as they always had been and always will be. Iwaizumi looks scared and releases his hand, and something like realization hits Oikawa as Iwaizumi pushes his hands to his lap. 

“Maybe we should sleep.” He mumbles. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Yeah,” Oikawa responds, forcing out a big grin. “You need your beauty sleep to catch up to me, Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond with a snarky response like usual, and Oikawa realizes now that maybe this wasn’t the right time to be silly. Iwa throws a pillow to the ground where his mat laid, and as if a walk of shame he slugs his way to the floor, pulling the blankets over himself. Oikawa lies in his bed for what feels like hours in silence and he’s sure Iwaizumi is fast asleep until he hears a shifting, which had to be Iwaizumi seeing if Oikawa was asleep. Oikawa holds his breath.

“Oikawa?” He mumbles, and something tells Oikawa not to answer. “Oikawa, I know you’re awake.” He says nothing still but he doesn’t know why. “Oikawa?” This time it seems hopeful, hoping that he is asleep. Oikawa listens to him shuffle on the mat to get comfortable, and the movements don’t seem to die down even after they first began. Oikawa is about to tell him he’s still awake but stops as soon as he hears a soft and shaky breath come from below him, so gentle. It was almost a moan, but the fact that it was late and he was in the room with someone else causes Iwaizumi to force it down. Heat spills through Oikawa’s body and suddenly he feels insanely guilty, listening to what Iwaizumi was doing to himself on the floor of his bedroom. 

“I’m awake, Iwaizumi.” A loud swoosh and then bang happens quickly, and then silence. Oikawa silently curses to himself, running his hand over his face. He should have just let him finish, spared him the embarrassment, but he couldn’t bear to listen. The fact that he had even heard that noise coming from Iwaizumi in the first place was dangerous in itself. He for the next few weeks would go back to this sound himself multiple times in the night. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“Let’s not talk about it.” Iwaizumi says suddenly, and his voice breaks a little in the middle. He’s nervous. Oikawa feels like he needs to do something, so he turns to look at his mat. His body was facing away, but it was enough. 

“I thought it was hot.” Silence. Oikawa had officially passed the line that they had both been so close to crossing for so long, and even if it had been long awaited it felt so wrong and right at the same time. His body erupts at his own words, and he feels his toes curl around eachother.

“I can’t do this, Oikawa.” His voice is soft, raw. Vulnerable.

“Maybe I want to.” There is a thick silence, and Oikawa feels regret but he can’t go back now. 

“I can’t, Oikawa.” Oikawa feels his body start to get excited, but he tries to force his hopes from getting up.

“Why not?” Iwaizumi is still. “Why not, Hajime?” He tenses at hearing his name.

“Because… it’s not fair.” 

“What isn’t fair?” Iwaizumi is quiet in thought.

“Can I be selfish for a moment, Oikawa?” He says softly. Yes, Oikawa thinks. Please.

“Yes.” He says, his voice full of hope and he knows Iwaizumi can hear it. He watches as Iwazumi sits up suddenly and moves back slightly in surprise as the boy pushes Oikawa’s cheeks together, staring into his eyes. Oikawa feels his heartbeat pulsing dangerously strong through his chest, he thinks maybe his mother could even hear it beating. Iwaizumi’s hands are cold and large against Oikawa’s face, which was even now unnaturally warm. Iwaizumi presses his lips to Oikawa’s in a swift motion, like it was the last thing he planned on ever doing. Oikawa’s eyes slowly shut from their surprise as he melted into the kiss, his body twisting awkwardly off the side of the bed so that he is able to be face to face with Iwaizumi. He felt him pull back and inhale, then come back. They kissed again, and again and again. Oikawa thinks about what will happen now, about growing together. He thinks about becoming old with Iwaizumi, kissing him every morning even when they’re all wrinkled up and worn out. He thinks about college and his life with his best friend, and how kind the universe is for allowing him such an incredible life. He thinks about how this is definitely Iwaizumi’s first kiss, and how it isn’t his but it feels like his life hadn’t truly entered his lungs until this very moment. They didn’t stop until they heard the birds begin to sing to each other from the tree in Oikawa’s yard, and fell asleep with a tingle lingering on their lips.

Iwaizumi stops showing up to school a few months later, but would still come to Oikawa’s house sometimes. They texted all the time, but things were seeming to slow down for Iwazumi. He stopped practicing as well as school, and when Oikawa asked about it he just said he had home issues to deal with. Oikawa didn’t push it, just let him lay in his lap and run his fingers through the boy's hair. One morning when he woke up, reaching to his side to wrap his arm around his lover, he was no longer there. 

Panic didn’t surge through him at first. Iwaizumi had a home and parents, a life outside of Oikawa Tooru. He didn’t allow the panic to take over until a few days had gone by and nothing. Now that he hadn’t been attending school, if it wasn’t over the phone or Oikawa’s house he didn’t have any source of contact. He was on his way home when he began to jog, and then run. His legs brought him to Iwaizumi’s house, and as he stood outside he wondered if he was being a crazy person by coming to his house, but going against his better judgment he knocked. 

Hajime’s mother answered the door, her eyes looked dull and exhausted. They widened at the sight of Oikawa, who smiled timidly. She didn’t look how she did when they were children, in a way she seemed to be losing her life as Iwaizumi had looked as well.

“Hi, is Iwaizumi home?” She stares, dumbfounded for a moment.

“I don’t appreciate that joke, Tooru.” Oikawa is startled at her tone, and goes to shut the door in anger but Oikawa grabs it before she can, holding it open. Fear starts to burst through him, because he has a hard pain growing in his chest that he might know what she might say to him.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Oikawa says, and his voice is strained. He watches as she blurs from his vision, realizing he must be crying. “Where is he?” 

She starts to cry herself, her face filled with shock. They stare at each other, an understanding between them before she breaks down. “My son, he is so selfish for what he has done to you.” She sobs, pulling Oikawa into her arms. “Oikawa, Hajime was very sick. He’s gone now.” Oikawa feels his body go limp in her arms and feels her shift as she holds his weight, and then his body shakes with tears. He hears himself scream but it doesn’t feel like it’s truly himself, his ears ring to themselves and he swears he can look down on himself and see his limp body in the woman’s arms, how he reached out to the stairs screaming his name. Hajime, Hajime. He pulls himself from her, sudden anger taking over and running up to the boys room.

It was just how he remembered, alas there was no sign of Hajime. All of the clothes were folded and put away, the room was tidied up and cleaned like a trophy, no sign of life in it. Sobs take over again and he screams, grabbing the nearest thing he can find and throwing it at the wall. He pulled the blankets off the bed, slamming his fists down in overwhelming anger. He didn’t say anything. If I would have known, Oikawa thought, I never would’ve kissed you. He threw a small box at the wall and watched it bounce to the floor. Selfish. He scraped everything from the shelf. Disgusting. His knees go limp as he cries and he turns to the doorway, watching Hajime’s mother stare at him in understanding. She approaches him carefully, holding him close to her chest. He feels the flutter of her heartbeat, a heartbeat that created the man who he had loved so much, a heartbeat that the man no longer had. She whispered soft support to Oikawa as he fell to his knees, burying his face into her shoulder. She smelled just like he had one day.

Oikawa had gone through the last few years in silence, doing what he felt necessary but not finding the strength to over achieve at anything. He distanced himself from Matsukawa and Hanamaki as well as anyone else who he had been even somewhat close to. He turned into Iwaizumi in a way, he supposes, turning a cold shoulder to those who he loved. The purpose to his life had left, and the universe had seemed to spin in different directions. He had decided to take a break from volleyball, or life in general, and with this came just an ongoing amount of sadness. He drove to himself silently, thinking about everything for the hundredth time. He called Iwaizumi’s phone, expecting it to go straight to voicemail like it always had, but a small voice answered for the first time. He watches the light in front of his car go green and he goes. 

‘Hello?” He hears the voice again, clearly not Hajime. He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry, this used to be my friend’s number who passed away. I call to leave voicemails to him sometimes so that-” He realized how depressing he must sound right now and swallowed, laughing to himself. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop calling.”

“I mean, if you want I can just decline your call and you can keep leaving voicemails. I really don’t mind.” Oikawa’s vision blurs as he stares at the road in front of him, smiling.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” There was a short silence and then an awkward sputter of goodbyes before the call was ended, Oikawa ringing the same number like he had a thousand times. The voicemail beeped, and Oikawa felt his face go slightly numb before he began telling the same story he had a thousand times to the boy all over again. He starts to cry at some point, but coughs and finishes quickly. He tears the dial tone beep after he finishes and wipes his nose like a child, ending the call. At some point, he’s not sure when, he had lost his anger toward Hajime. He will never totally understand, but something in him couldn’t be angry with him forever. Something cold brushes across his shoulder and he turns, watching with slow eyes as a truck blares its horn at him, pushing his car into the ongoing traffic. He closes his eyes as he feels himself spin, smiling as his death approaches him, in content. 

He would have given hisi everything to Hajime. His life, if it were to bring him back. He would have taken back every story he had ever told, given him all of his yesterdays if it meant that he could just see him for one more day. They spent their last few days with only each other, hand in hand and full of undoubtful love, and yet it never felt like enough. He knew his time was close, because it would never be enough until they could be together once again. And because of this every night he prayed that he finally would be taken back to his love, where they would meet and their souls would wrap around each other for the rest of eternity. It was his only wish in his life now that Hajime was gone, and the universe had finally complied. He was not afraid, he would not miss his love for any longer.

Finally, a hand reaches to him as he looks up. He locks eyes with the man who he knew so well, a face he had memorized and would know in every beginning and every end. Hajime smiles to him, his stance soft on the small pathway that they stood in,

“I was waiting for you, Tooru.” Hajime says, and Tooru grabs his hand with a smile. The universe brought him here at such a young age because it soon realized the truthful promise that Oikawa had made to himself that day, when he decided that a life without Hajime was not a life. Their hands touch and the universe seems to smile down at them, because the sky changes to a beautiful blue. “Right here, I waited. I would have waited for all of eternity, if I had to.”

“And I you, Hajime.”


End file.
